Magical Comrade Berserker-Chan
by Zalgo Jenkins
Summary: Heaven's Feel decides to go with a World War II theme. Pity the magi.


**Author Notes: **This abomination came from an old thread where somebody suggested summoning WWII Servants. And given Nasuverse's penchant for gender-bending...

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**Magical Comrade Berserker-Chan**

Rin completed the summoning Aria. It had been perfect, like a great magus's spell _should_ be. Like her father's must have been. Light blazed in her gems until each went dark in turn. The summoning circle glowed red.

And then, an explosion.

Rin coughed. When she'd finally waved the smoke away, she almost wished she hadn't.

A girl stood in front of her. She couldn't have been more than twelve. Superficially, her black hair and pigtails resembled her Master's, although her face was pockmarked. To Rin, though, the differences stood out more. Especially the fake handlebar mustache, and the fact that one of her arms was longer than the other.

Rin also found the kosovorotka and giant boots (which came up to the girl's knees) a bit unusual.

"I am Josef Vissarionovich Dzhugashvili, acting as Servant Berserker," the girl said. "And I ask of you: Are you my master?"

"…I am _so_ gonna die in this War."

The girl frowned and puffed out her cheeks, her tiny hands curling into fists. The display did not instill Rin with confidence.

"And what's _your_ name?" the girl demanded.

Rin sighed. Well, if it had come to this, she should at least make the best of it.

"Tohsaka Rin. And yes, I am your—"

"Wait a minute."

The girl pulled a wad of paper out of her jacket. She continued pulling for quite some sheet seemed to go on forever, like some demented version of Santa's list. Just when the mountain of paper had reached Berserker's head (and Rin began contemplating asking her to clean it up), a blank space appeared.

Berserker wrote something in Cyrillic. It looked a _little_ like Rin's name, and Rin noted that the "o"s (at least, she _thought_ they were "o"s) resembled hearts. The girl drew a line through it with a red crayon.

Her task completed, Berserker gave Rin a sweet smile.

"There!" she said. "All done."

Rin noted that she'd said "done" with a disturbing air of finality.

The next few days were…unpleasant. Rin soon learned that her new Servant didn't believe in magecraft, and no amount of reasoning could convince her otherwise. Even the dream cycle was boring. Most dreams involved debates in some legislative building or other. Rin found herself waking up in the middle of the night, screaming something about dialectical materialism.

In the daytime, the Spirit stalked the halls, thumping from one room to another in her oversized boots. She waddled a bit like a bear. A teddy bear, Rin reflected. Albeit a rather creepy one.

Not to mention the smoking. The girl puffed on a pipe half the size of her head. Rin wasn't precisely sure how she kept the monstrosity clenched between her teeth. In any event, nothing could part the two: Rin had tried everything from gentle cajoling ("You'll ruin your lungs, sweetie"…delivered with a grim scowl) to threatening Berserker with a command seal. Nothing had worked. Berseker's only reaction had been to write Rin's name down and cross it off again.

When Berserker began blowing bubbles from the pipe as well, Rin began to suspect that she was _trying_ to annoy her.

Yet for all that, Berserker didn't seem particularly, well, berserk. This blissful impression continued until Rin met "Mister Beria."

It happened when Rin stumbled upon one of Berserker's vodka parties (which seemed to resemble tea parties, save for one modification). Berserker had laid out porcelain cups. She'd used a pink table that had once hosted Rin's own tea parties as a girl.

Berserker also appeared to have appropriated half of Rin's stuffed animal collection. A lion plushie sat apart from the rest. A paper doily with angry red letters was pinned to its chest: "Grain Hoarder. Enemy of the People."

Berseker looked up. She waggled a sock puppet at Rin. It was bald, wore a rather impressive-looking uniform, and had pince-nez glasses.

"Mister Beria wants you to join us," said Berserker.

"Uh…I'd rather not."

Berserker's expression darkened.

"Mister Beria _told_ me you'd say that," she said. "Mister Beria believes you're a fascist counterrevolutionary. I told him that you were just a feudal holdover who might be able to sense the tide of history."

"What?"

"You _aren't_ a fascist counterrevolutionary, are you?"

Rin suddenly got the impression that she would be well advised to answer "no."

"I…don't think so?"

"Then you'd better sit down before Mister Beria pours warfarin in your vodka," Berserker said. "Mister Beria _likes_ poisoning people, you see. Don't you, Mister Beria? DON'T YOU, MISTER BERIA!? I KNOW IT WAS YOU, YOU LITTLE BASTARD!"

"Mister Beria" made thumping sounds as Berserker repeatedly slammed the puppet on the table.

Rin sat down.

Berserker dropped the sock puppet and beamed. Rin noted, however, that the smile didn't seem to reach her eyes.

"And now, we drink!" Berserker said. "People are always more _honest_ when they drink, don'tcha think?"

"Um…"

"Drink. Now."

Rin drank.

And drank.

And drank.

The last thing she remembered before passing out was babbling about Shirou Emiya in fishnets.

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**Disclaimer:** No actual magical-girl-Stalins were harmed in the making of this fic.


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